If I blow the conch and they don't come back; then we've had it. We shan't keep the fire going. We'll be like animals. We'll never be rescued." "If you don't blow, we'll soon be animals anyway.

Simon became inarticulate in his effort to express mankind's essential illness.

My father was very musical, and music plays quite a large part in my life.

Even if you got rid of paper, you would still have story-tellers. In fact, you had the story-tellers before you had the paper.

I do think that art that doesn't communicate is useless.

Roger stooped, picked up a stone, aimed and threw it at Henry-threw it to miss. The stone, that token of preposterous time, bounced five yards to Henry's right and fell in the water. Roger gathered a handful of stones and began to throw them. Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policemen and the law. Roger was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.

I hope my books make statements about our general condition.